


Stay

by InfinityofNeonStars



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Nah probably not, Poetry, Sex, Woops, and i do not know what love is, but it's not v detailed, but sadly i am not a gay man, do i put poetry on here?, i could do a lot with this situation, i could write more, i have never had anal, i wish i would have written more, idk really, is it needed, is it wanted, it's kinda poetic?, lovelies, maybe not, my tags are useless yet again, no one make fun of my tags please, probably oneshot, thank you, there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7775188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinityofNeonStars/pseuds/InfinityofNeonStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Jack fuck, it's kinda poetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trash, sorry. I think I wanna write more on this but it's kinda slightly not good enough? I dunno.

Jack touches Mark like he is a temple for a soft religion, like he could break if he was careless enough. His name is a prayer that Jack can't get out of his head, or his mouth. It's always been Mark, it always will be Mark. Perhaps this is too slow, perhaps these moments are supposed to be rough and fast and full of passion, but who ever said passion can't be gentle? His tongue tastes like fire and Mark is the water he needs to survive.  
He slides his hand down his bare back and bites his lip. His breathing is heavy and Mark is so, so close to him, their bodies pressed up together, and my god, it's almost innocent. Jack kisses his warily, as if Mark could suddenly say no, no, this is too much, this isn't right, as if Mark would lash out, but the ridicule never comes, and Jack is almost certain that he could live off the carbon dioxide Mark exhales.  
Then Mark is pulling back and for a second Jack panics, because Mark is so fucking Godly, and Jack is just Jack, and how could an entire galaxy possibly want just a small flower? But then Mark starts kissing down Jack's body and suddenly he doesn't feel like a flower, he feels like the entire universe expanding in on itself, and it burns, and he wants more and less at the same time because how could one person make him feel so good? It scares him, but he's never been one to back away from a challenge.  
Mark nips at his hipbones after fitting them perfectly together like they were always meant to be, and Jack cries out. His hipbones jut out like the constellations Jack never bothered to learn the names of, and suddenly Mark's mouth is on his cock, and it's burning fire spitting its way down Jack's throat into the pit of his stomach, and whoever said passion couldn't be slow and soft is full of shit, because if this isn't passionate, he doesn't know what is. It is slow, and teasing, and Jack may as well be made of porcelain with the way Mark is handling him. He wants Mark to break him.  
He wants Mark to throw him up against the wall and choke him until he sees red, he wants Mark to break him because he's been whole much too long, and it's been far too long since he'd needed pieced together, and Mark, Mark would be there and help him and he'd be so pretty with Mark's image surrounding him, and he wants dirty things he'd never thought about anyone else, because this is Mark, and he trusts Mark, and Mark is so fucking hot and Jack is so pliant underneath his finger tips, and it scares him to know he'd give anything for this man.  
Jack pulls Mark off because he can't take this teasing anymore and flips him on his back. He straddles Mark's waist and can feel his hard cock against his inner thigh. Jack bends over and leaves bites that are sure to bruise on Mark's neck, he isn't sure if he's doing it to prove that it happened because he's almost convinced this is all a dream, or if he's doing it to mark his territory. Either way, he doesn't care. He positions himself over Mark's cock and then it's sliding inside of him, slowly, wonderfully, carefully, and Jack knows, every inch of his skin reads out poetry and his fingertips mark their way to infinity and immortality because with Mark underneath him and his cock inside of him, they'll live in this moment for eternity together, and this, this is heaven.  
Mark is carving his nails into Jack's back like he'll disappear if he stops, like the only thing holding them together are small sounds of desperation escaping both of them and the pain that they inflict on each other to remind them that yes, yes, this is real, and it is so fucking beautiful. Jack holds onto Mark's hair and Mark scratches at Jack's back and it should have been painful but it feels like bliss and Jack wonders if this is what Stockholm Syndrome is like.  
The air is heavy and Jack is biting a little too hard for it to matter to either of them and Mark's cock is throbbing inside of Jack because they've forgotten to move for God knows how long. Jack squeezes his ass around Mark and move gently and there it is, that perfect fucking spot that makes anal worth the pain, and the tension is too high, they're both going over and it's so fucking gorgeous and it hurts and Jack think anything but chants of Mark's name and Mark's been stupid for Jack since the start and can't think anything and--  
It's over quicker than the months of foreplay and chasing it took to get here, and neither could be happier. Neither care about the mess they've made and all that matters is they're there together, so close, finally, finally.. Jack's drifting to sleep with Mark's arms wrapped tightly around him, and Mark's trying to stay awake to make sure Jack doesn't leave. He doesn't think he will but he doesn't feel like waking up with a broken heart and a cold bed.  
Jack slips into sleep as he mumbles a few quiet words and Mark isn't sure he was meant to hear them, but he does anyway. Jack says "hold onto me" and Mark pulls him closer because this silly, goofy, adorable boy he can't help but want thinks he'd dream of letting him go, and that's the funniest thing he's heard in a long time. He kisses Jack's forehead and the planets align and everything is finally, for once in a very long time, alright. Nothing can ever take this moment from them and it's the only thing other than each other either of them will hold onto for a long, long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More lowkey fucking, Jack gets lost, Mark gets worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fucking mess and I love it.

  
It isn't like Jack to fall in love. Maybe it isn't like him to be loved, either. Maybe this whole situation is weird and he has no real idea what he's doing-- but he decides early on he doesn't care. Who could possibly think about anything when Mark's lips are pressed against his, hip to hip, bare skin, no talking, because god, they're so fucking tired of talking, it's what they do for a living, and this, this thing they have, it is so beautiful and quiet and they've never wanted something so much before.  
Sometimes it starts out innocently, with a small whisper of a name, or bare skin touching skin, and it turns into more so wonderfully. It turns into slow, passionate sex, the kind you can have only if you're in love, the kind you can have only if you're totally and foolish in fucking love, and Jack knows it. It doesn't scare him because this is the easiest thing he's ever done in his life.

  
They spend a lot of time in bed. They aren't always fucking, and they don't fuck only in bed, either. Jack intertwines his fingers in Mark's and lays his head against his chest. His breathing is raspy and Jack is still so fucking hard, but he wouldn't mind laying like this forever, listening to Mark breathe hard and curse Jack's name in a way that makes it sound almost sacrilegious to sound so fucking hot. Mark is his God and Jack, Jack is so fucking lucky to find redemption in stolen kisses and borrowed time.  
Jack knows this won't last. This isn't real love, he tells himself, but if that's true, why can't he bear the thought of going back to Ireland? It doesn't matter, he decides, even if you love someone and they love you, it doesn't mean you're meant to be together. His chest is heavy as he kisses Mark's neck gently and gets up. He throws some clothes on--his or Mark's, he isn't sure, and leaves the house. He isn't sure where he's going, so there's no chance of him taking the wrong route.

  
He ends up on the beach. The stars shine bright, reflecting off the water, reminding Jack of will-o-wisps, and he is almost enchanted to follow them into the water, but instead sits on the edge of the boardwalk. He lays back and stares at the stars and he has never felt more alone and insignificant in his entire life. He is so small and nothing matters, and everything feels okay. No one cares if he messes up, and if that isn't the best feeling he's ever had in his life, he doesn't know what it would be. His existential crisis has become comforting.

  
Mark wakes up and all he can think of is Jack, before he realizes that Jack isn't there. He's not in his arms, he's not in the house, and Mark isn't sure why his heart is beating so fast, why he feels like he just has to find Jack. He rationalizes that Jack is an adult, he can make it by himself, and he'll be back soon from wherever he went, but suddenly 2am turns into 8am and he's still not back and Mark is hyperventilating.

  
Of course he can't call the cops, Jack is an adult, and he's FINE, really, listen to yourself, Mark. Everything is fine and he's probably out doing something stupid but cute in the way only he can but that doesn't help Mark because LA is vicious and wonderful and damn scary at times and he doesn't know if Jack's alright and it hurts to think about losing him even if he isn't his. He bites back tears as he waits on, and on, and on.

It wasn't that he was trying to stay out all night, he just got lost thinking about stuff, looking at the stars and then the sunrise, and, oh shit! The sunrise! He scrambles to get up and his eyes fucking hurt, he's such a fucking idiot, and he isn't really sure which way is home and--

  
Home? Did he just refer to Mark's as, as /home/? He shakes his head at the thought and his heart aches because he realizes didn't just refer to Mark's house as home, but Mark himself. His stomach is a field of thorns without the roses and stone butterflies beat at his ribs to get the fuck out already and his head keeps screaming Mark, Mark, Mark..

  
He starts running without knowing exactly where he's going. He needs Mark and nothing will stop him from find him.

 

  
It's nearly noon when Mark hears a knock at the door. He doesn't even bother trying to look presentable as he throws the door open and there's Jack, there's the light of his life, and suddenly he's holding him as they're on the floor, the door's open and he's crying because he's fucking back, and he's okay, and everything's okay..  
He's pressing sloppy wet kisses all over Jack's face and Jack is sweating and smiling like an idiot and pressing himself against Mark's body because he missed him so fucking much it physically hurts, and everything feels light and heavy all at once and he doesn't know what the fuck to do so he just keeps doing nothing, because there's nothing TO do.

  
Mark tells him, he tells him he was so fucking worried but the thought doesn't last long because Jack's dragging them into the bedroom, he just wants Mark's body against his, skin to skin, sweat to sweat, he doesn't care about anything but Mark, Mark, Mark, and it's so fucking good to be with him again, he doesn't stop to wonder why Mark cried when he saw Jack, he doesn't care to know why, he just knows he likes it.

 

Mark keeps one hand in Jack's hair, he needs to make sure he stays, make sure he doesn't leave, make sure this is /real/ because he'd almost convinced himself it wasn't for a while and it hurt so fucking bad, he just needs something to prove to himself when this over that it actually happened. He slides one hand down Jack's side and leans into his embrace, and bites his neck.

  
They tear each other's clothes off like they'll die without proper contact. Their hips are sliding against each other, no real friction being created, making it much more frustrating. Mark is desperately biting and sucking at Jack's neck and collarbones, trying his hardest to leave his mark, just to make fucking sure.. He doesn't realize he's crying until it's too late to stop.

  
He isn't sure when he realizes that Jack's crying, too, and he doesn't know why, either. After he notices, things get more desperate. It's no longer about feeling good, it's about not feeling so alone. Mark's hand is on Jack's dick, his movements are rough and uncoordinated, and Jack's isn't much better. He's slightly shorter than Mark, his arms aren't quite long enough to comfortably do this. He flips them, Mark's on his back and Jack is biting and licking his way down Mark's body, nipping at his hip bones gently before sliding Mark's cock in his mouth. It isn't the first time, but the taste always seems to surprise him.

  
Mark bucks his hips and holds onto Jack's hair tighter, like the only thing keeping him alive is holding on, and he guesses that's kinda true in itself. He knows he isn't going to last long, because this is Jack, and Jack seems to be his weakness. He doesn't mind that the only thing keeping him here is the only thing that could tear him down.

  
Then Jack's popping Mark's cock out of his mouth with a wet, sloppy sound. Jack slides up Mark's body and sits on top of his cock. He hasn't had any preparation but he doesn't fucking care anymore-- he knows it'll hurt but maybe he needs a reminder that it happened, too. He leans down and bites at Mark's neck harshly as the head of his cock catches on Jack's anus. He's leaving bruises up and down his neck and, if they were anywhere else, he'd look like he got beat up.

  
Jack holds the base of Mark's cock and slides the head in first, adjusting around it. Neither of them realize how tightly Mark is holding Jack's hipbones until Jack settles better on Mark's cock. He slides down farther and fuck, yes, it hurts, but it's the best pain he's ever fucking felt and he /needs/ more, so he doesn't stop until he's firmly sitting on Mark's cock. Neither man moves or seems to breathe. They both seem to be holding back something the other can't quite seem to reach.

  
Jack intertwines their fingers together, both above Mark's head. Jack bends closer and kisses Mark. Mark thrusts up and it's too soon but Jack doesn't fucking care anymore, he's letting go and he fucking loves it and /God/ he's never felt so fucking free in his entire life and everything hurts and feels so fucking wonderful and, and, and--

  
Mark's cock is rubbing against his g-spot consistently, and it almost damn near hurts to not have his cock touched at the same time but he can't bring himself to let go of Mark's hands to save his fucking life, and all he can really do is bend over further, pulling their intertwined fingers together towards his cock. He lets go, he lets go and gives himself over to Mark, and Mark dominates so beautifully, it's a shame they haven't done bondage yet.

  
Mark thrusts his hips, faster and harder, and teasingly rubs Jack's cock before sliding it fully into his hand. It takes two, three jerks before Jack is cumming, cumming so fucking hard he can't see, and it hurts and feels so wonderful and he's so fucking happy that Mark is there and with him and /his/ and then, then Mark, Mark is fucking him harder, and it's not about love at all, it's about being with Jack and needing this moment to make sure he's not just a dream and if it is a dream, he never wants to fucking wake up because Jack is so perfect, all he's ever wanted, and he fucking loves him so much, and, and--

  
It's at least ten minutes before either of them are coherent. They're covered in each other's cum and still breathing hard, Jack feels thoroughly used and so fucking loved. Mark wraps his arms tightly around Jack's waist and he's kissing Jack's forehead sloppily. Jack's kissing Mark's neck and neither want the moment to end.

 

 


End file.
